Eyes On Me, a csi fanfic

Summary: (Greg/OC) In a Vegas lounge, Greg goes to drink some problems away and finds himself flirting with the lounge singer. She's different from most girls he's always been attracted to, but little does he know that she might just teach him a thing or two about life.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything CSI (I wish I did). This is kind of a songfic based on my own version of it. So it's not exactly lyric for lyric. I wrote this story involving a heavy set woman because, well, we never really see that in stories so I wanted to do that since I am a big woman and know how difficult it is to have any kind of positive attraction. I was inspired a little from the episode entitled "Primum Non Nocere" (Season 2, Episode 16) where Warrick is smitten with a rising singer. Anyway, this is my first story ever published on and I hope it doesn't suck too bad. I was hoping this would be different but a good kind of different. Okay enough rambling… on with the story! Reviews would be good!

The thick cloud of smoke was present in the tiny gloomy place. The bar was present along with some tables and chairs. This lonely lounge was a hot spot for drunk men and cocktail waitresses who kept the drinks coming. The lights were illuminating and colorful. Shades of green, yellow, and red made the place even more exotic. It wasn't particularly a popular place but it suited those who decided to come in to see what the entertainment was and to drink their problems away.

A small black stage was centered towards the back of the room. A lone figure stood on this glossy stage behind the ebony piano, the spotlight making her low cut chocolate dress and ivory skin shine even more. She slightly leaned against the piano while the man in a suit played the melody for her song. Her head was looking down as if in thought, maybe letting her passion come from underneath her to her voice. Her long auburn hair matching her ensemble as she instinctively flips it to the side of her face. She slowly brings her head up to look at the few people there who are willing to listen. She scans every single one, her light brown eyes taking in the rays of light. She takes a soft breath and sings a song in a beautiful angelic voice, one that most have never heard before. She carefully wraps her hand tighter around the charcoal microphone, bringing it closer to her mouth, her lips barely brushing against it. Her rouge lips are full and plump, making every word pronounced. Her smoky eyes making sure to look at everyone she could see to express the meaning of her story through song.

A man sat on one of the small wooden tables, his hand resting on the drink of choice, slightly twirling it in his hand as if regretting his decision. He wore a tan-striped fedora hat that covered his face from the beauty that was crooning his way. He leisurely let his head up to get a better glance on the singer onstage. He felt his heart flutter lightly as he took on the beauty that emanated from her. He was sure it wasn't the drink doing that to him.

Normally, Greg was the typical man who was attracted to the model types, ones with gorgeous green eyes and flirtatious smiles. Something about this crooner was drawing his attention. Sure, he was a big flirt and even that toned down a bit when he transformed into a CSI but he liked the ladies. He never really had a steady relationship. He had hoped with a certain coworker but she had her heart set on another. But it was mostly work that kept him from any kind of relationship, since seemingly working 24/7 came with the territory. It would probably cause a strain on any kind of serious relationship.

The real reason he came to the lounge was to have a bit to drink and then somber off to his apartment as usual. He didn't really go out much anymore, his job being slightly responsible. He was starting to doubt if he could really do this. He shared the same frustration as his coworkers, like Sara and even Nick. They tried not to show it, usually confiding in each other when things got too rough. They somehow found a reason to stick around and usually they reminded themselves that they were family and that it was just another day at the job.

The song ended and a few scattered claps could be heard as she ignored them. A fake smile was shown to please the masses as she went down off the stage to the bar. She needed a drink once in a while to keep her going. She sat at the bar away from the crowd, sighing as she saw her blurred reflection in the counter. Suddenly, she felt that she wasn't alone and her heart skipped a beat. As she looked out of the corner of her eye, she saw it was a man. She sighed deeply, knowing it was just another guy who was just going to hit on her because it satisfied their "chubby chaser" dreams. She was so sick of it. She thought that most guys would just leave her alone because she was a heavy woman, but this was Vegas, there were all types here. She was lucky though that most guys did ignore her and that was enough. She could get rid of the rest with her charms and let them down easy.

"Hey, let me buy you a drink," he told her. He planted a grin on his face, showing the gentleman side of him. He sat on the stool next to her. The woman placed her head on her hand, turning her head towards him. Okay, she'll play his little game for a bit. After all, he was very handsome and had a brilliant smile. Most guys were ugly and smelled of alcohol, smoke, and sweat. He had a very inviting smell of cologne that tickled her senses.

"Oh? What's the occasion?" she asked, giving him a flirty grin.

"Can't a guy be nice?" he asked, folding his hands in front of him on the counter. He then flagged down the bartender and ordered a drink for her as the bartender nodded and started right on it.

"I can't even begin to count how many guys have wanted to buy me a drink," she mused, glancing towards the uniformed man mixing the drink for her. He placed the glass in front of her and she brought it closer to her, taking the small red straw and stirring it gently.

"Really?"

"No," she admitted, getting him to chuckle at her fib. "A big girl like me doesn't get much attention."

"You got my attention," he replied to the comment. She laughed, not believing this guy.

"You must be drunk," she joked. She took a small sip of her drink, careful not to get too much lipstick on the edge of it since she had one more set to do before going home for the night. He laughed, glancing down at the table.

"No, not yet anyway," he said, bringing up his drink to show his glass was still halfway full.

"It's Vegas baby, you will be," she remarked. She flipped her hair back away from her face with her hand. She reminded herself to get a trim later, she wasn't used to her hair being this long.

"You are very beautiful," he confessed to this pretty stranger, his eyes afraid to glance at her after that remark. She was taken aback by the comment. Usually, she would automatically dismiss any kind of statements that came flying out the mouths of drinking men. But she was silent, dare she say it, blushing a little bit. She rested her head in her hand again, to hide her flushing cheeks.

"Here you are commenting me and I don't even know your name," she said, her hand gesturing along with her comment.

"Greg, Greg Sanders," he introduced. "You?"

"Jennifer Miller," she revealed. "So, Greg, what's a handsome guy like you talking to me anyway? Besides trying to sweet talk your way into something?"

"Just came here to relax, have a drink, see the show, the usual," he told her.

"Ah, well Mr. Sanders, are you relaxed, had your drink, and seen the show?" she smirked at him. He chuckled at that.

"Yeah, and I'm glad I came," he told her. Greg's eyes examined her facial features as he leaned his arm against the bar counter. "You have a lovely voice, you know that?"

"So I've been told," she said, giving a wink. "So what brings you here anyway? The real reason." She started twirling the drink on the counter slowly.

"I dunno, I guess I'm at a loss," he explained, frowning. He felt comfortable with the woman to share a bit. "I'm not sure what to do with my life anymore."

"What do you do for a living?" Jennifer asked curious, she was wondering if that had anything to do with him being slightly miserable, narrowing the field.

"I'm a Crime Scene Investigator," he answered. She whistled impressed and it made him laugh.

"Wow, that's some pretty fancy words there," she joked. Most guys would lie and say that they were rich bastards and owned invisible possessions. This was a first for her to hear. "Sounds like you're always on your toes."

"It has it perks, but sometimes I just can't take some of the crime scenes, you know?" he confessed. Jennifer couldn't possibly imagine but she knew that they had to deal with dead people mostly. Something she could never do.

"Too much for you to handle?" she asked, taking another sip of her drink. She noticed that it was almost gone and went to slowing the intake.

"I guess you could say that," Greg answered. Jennifer noticed that he was tracing the rim of his drink of choice. She could tell that he needed a spirit booster. Why else was he at a lounge with drunken men?

"You know, unlike my job, you're doing something that has importance for a lot of people. You may or may not know it but you do. I don't know exactly how hard or complicated things can be for you, but in the end, it's worth it. That you're worth it," she expressed to him. The side of his lips curved up into a light smile. She followed, thankful he even listened to her positive ramblings.

"Such an optimist for one who doesn't do the same to herself," he observed. Jennifer folded her hands in front of her.

"I know when people need the support they deserve," she responded.

"You're not deserving?"

"Heh, not in so many words," she said. Greg smiled and placed his hand on the side of her head to stroke back the hair that fell towards the front of her face behind her ear. The side of her lips curved upward slightly, secretly loving the attention this man was giving her.

"So why don't you try to get out of Vegas? Make it in the big time?" he asked curious, changing the subject.

"Oh please, no one wants to hire me. I only got this job through my cousin because he is the manager here. As long as I stick behind the piano, it's not as disturbing to the audience. I admit I have a pretty face and a pretty voice, but that's not enough for the outside world," she told him, pushing her empty glass away from her.

"That's not tr-" he started to say but she cut him off, having heard this before.

"Oh save it, it's the truth and I've just gone and accepted it," she interrupted. "Thanks for the drink, but I don't think I'm your type, Mr. Sanders." Jennifer started to head towards the backstage, the bottom of her dress floating in the breeze she was creating with her dramatic exit.

"Greg," he corrected, trying to get her to yield. It worked. She turned to face his direction.

"Greg," she said to him and she continued her way to the back.

He knew that he hit a soft spot for her. He wasn't trying to offend her, but obviously he did. He wanted to see if round two would be any better. He wasn't going to give up on her. He knew sometimes a woman just needs to blow off steam and when she was finished with her thing he'd try again. He took a soft sip of his drink and turned himself around in the stool, seeing that the house lights were dimming indicating another set being readied for the audience.

The second set was just a few more songs. Jennifer felt a little guilty for blowing that man off. He was seemingly nice and was treating her like a lady for once instead of a piece of meat like any other guy would. As she sang her song, she saw Greg in the audience. Even after she blew him off, he still stared at her from the bar with a smirk on his face. He eventually grabbed an empty table near the bar to get a better view of the stage, nursing the same drink that he had when he sat with her.

When she finished, the lights on the stage dimmed as the house lights went up. She strolled down the stairs leading from the stage to the tables. She ignored the comments from the drunken males around her, rolling her eyes instinctively. Greg gave her a grin. He knew she just had a little huff but he knew his charms would bring her back. Call it a feeling.

"Like fish to the perfect bait," he feigned that he was reeling her in, using the chair next to him to prop his foot against. She wagged her finger at him, holding in her laughter at his silliness.

"See, comments like that get you bitch slapped," she warned, taking her seat in the chair as he dropped his foot down.

"Don't lie, you like the attention," he flirted, wiggling his eyebrows a little at her.

"Maybe," she said, flirting back, raising her eyebrows at him, making her eyes look more resound.

"I knew it," he said egotistically, leaning back in his chair slightly. "I know what the ladies like."

"Are you telling me that you can read girls' minds?" Jennifer asked, not believing this guy.

"Yeah, I'm psycho," he said purposely for a chuckle out of her. She was taken back by that. She thought that he said it by accident.

"You mean 'psychic'," she corrected.

"That's what I said," he said, showing his flub through his kilowatt smile. She laughed again, seeing where he was getting at. She knew he was the hormone-induced flirt that she sensed in every man but he was different, as he was making her laugh. Something that she loved in a man. Call it a weakness.

"So what's with that hat of yours? It's different," she mused, putting her finger on the rim of the hat, slightly pulling it down over his face. He brought it up with a smile.

"You like it? I think it makes me look like a private detective," he said, then changed his voice to a bad English accent. "Don't I look smashing, my dear?"

"You look like you belong in 'Casablanca'," she remarked. He disguised his voice as Humphrey Bogart.

"You'll regret this. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life," he quoted. Jennifer laughed at his imitation.

"I knew you would bust out with that famous line," she confessed, then thought of something. "I think I might be 'psycho' too." Greg laughed as he took his hat and placed it on the counter. Jennifer glanced at the clock above the bar counter. She sighed, she knew her roommate was going to pick her up in a few so she needed to wait outside.

"I should get going, my ride will be here any minute," she said, getting off of the stool. "Thanks for the drink from earlier," she thanked him, not properly doing that before.

"No problem," he told her.

"Hey, I'm sorry about earlier, I took it the wrong way I guess, or I'm tired, take your pick," she rambled. He just shrugged it off, letting her know with that gesture that it was water under the bridge. He definitely wanted to keep in touch with her outside of her work. So he boldly asked, "Can I get your number?"

As much as she wanted to pass her number to the next guy, Jennifer wanted to make sure this guy was for real. If he comes around a few times, keeps showing his true colors as a gentleman, then maybe I will, she thought. For now, she teased. Her lips curved up as she closed in the distance between them. She placed her hands gently on his shoulders, bringing him closer to her as she placed a soft kiss on his cheek. He blushed a little.

"You know where to find me," she said pointing to the stage, before heading the opposite direction.

Greg stood there watching her go and he couldn't help the smile that made its way onto his face. Score one for Greggo, he thought happily as he flipped his fedora hat from his hand to his head in one swift motion. He shoved his hands in his jean pockets as he exited the lounge, through the hanging decorations in the doorway. Jennifer had stopped at the backstage entrance, placing her hand on the doorway as she took another glance at him. She smiled as she saw his reaction. He acted like he just scored and he didn't even ask her to sleep with him let alone hinted at it. Maybe he wasn't too bad after all. Maybe he really liked talking to her, despite her appearance that was so harshly judged by others. With that in mind, she continued her way through the door.

The next night, Jennifer came onto the stage for her set. She recognized the tan-striped fedora hat staring at her from the audience. His smile was contagious as she did the same. The melody played and she sang a song that she loved to sing. It was called "Eyes On Me," her favorite.

Out of sheer bravery, she came from behind the piano, showing off a black dress with a white flower pattern trailing down the dress. Her heart raced as she usually kept behind the piano for obvious reason. But she didn't care. It was as if she was daring to push the envelope with herself. Was it from the man who made her feel special?

Greg observed her with a smile, he was secretly glad that she came out from behind the piano. It looked so fake with her hiding and now that she was out from behind it, she was fluently gliding across the stage, keeping her focus on the people that were listening to her, showing the true showmanship that a real singer portrays.

When the set was over, she headed towards the bar. Greg noticed this, confused as to why she didn't come to greet him. He knew that she saw him. He stood up and zipped in front of her path.

"Never fear, your number one fan is here," he joked. She sighed, as much as she liked Greg, she wasn't too sure about him. She wanted to test him. Make sure he wasn't just stalking her. She turned the tables around on him.

"What is up with you? Why won't you leave me alone?" she asked seriously, crossing her arms in front of her chest. The grin he had was now nonexistent.

"I like seeing you perform," he confessed. "I like talking to you. Is that against the law now?"

She ignored his question, "Why do you still persist? We barely know each other."

"Because you are a wonderful person, you doubt it because of your supposed appearance but I think it enhances your beauty," he told her, trying to make up for the soft spot he hit the other day. He then realized what she must've thought. "You shouldn't think all guys hit on you for one reason only."

"Even if that was the reason" she mumbled under her breath. "You haven't been in Vegas long, have you?"

"I know what you mean but… what can I do to prove this to you?" he asked. She sighed deeply.

"I gotta go," she lied, trying to avoid his gaze and question as she started to head towards the backstage. Greg grabbed her arm to stop her, she bore into his eyes.

"Please, just give me a chance," he told her. She let her arm down as he released it, seeing she wasn't going anywhere.

"You're serious, aren't you?" she questioned, as she cocked an eyebrow towards his grinning face.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered. Jennifer examined him as he placed his hand against the side of her head, brushing her hair back from her face. She chuckled, knowing that he always did that. She guessed it was because he wanted to get a better look at her face. For reasons unknown to her.

"How about dinner?" she asked, not sure why she asked it but it was too late now.

"Wednesday sound okay?" he asked, knowing his day off.

"Sure, we'll meet here after my last session," she told him. The distance between them close, they could feel the breath of each other, feeling the tension between them. His lips were so inviting to her, but she held back. As much as he wanted to do it too, he knew that would be too forward.

"Shouldn't you uh-" Greg indicated up towards the stage as the house lights went dim.

"Oh right," Jennifer said, embarrassed. She placed her hand against his cheek, wanting to feel his warmth. His electric smile showing as he loved the feel of her soft hand against his skin. She removed her hand and headed towards the stage.

Greg rode to the crime scene with Nick's car trailing behind. He didn't notice the address until he was halfway there. He was told of a DB at the scene but not much else. He slammed the door of his car, kit in hand as he made his way to the familiar lounge decked out in his CSI uniform. The red and blue lights flashing outside of the building. He caught up with Jim Brass who was there to inform them of the situation, a grim look on his face.

"The DB belongs to a singer here at the lounge," he started to explain to the duo, oblivious to Greg stopping in his tracks in apparent shock at the word "singer". No, it couldn't be, he thought. Nick noticed his partner was not beside the detective anymore and looked back, heading over to him.

"Greg? You okay?" Nick asked, placing his hand on his shoulder. Greg nodded instinctively, hating that he was lying but he had to know for absolute sure if it was or wasn't her. He was hoping the latter.

When Brass opened the back door to the alley for the two CSI's, the musty smell filled their senses immediately. Greg was the first to enter the alley and didn't have to search far for the body. It was her. Jennifer's body sprawled on the ground in her formal attire surrounded by a pool of blood, an apparent slice of the throat was her downfall. Greg hung his head sadly, trying to not show that this was affecting him, but failing. Nick was already towards the body to join David as he examined the it, making his usual notes. Nick then took notice that Greg had not come to join him as he still stood where the doorway was, staring.

"Greg, are you all right?" he called out to him. Greg finally had the nerve to join him, getting closer to the woman he had grown fond of, who was no more. He didn't dare kneel down like his partner had done to get a closer look at the woman's condition and cause of death.

"That's Jennifer," he revealed, avoiding his question.

"Yeah, Jennifer Miller, how'd you know?" David asked, he had already pulled the ID out of her purse that happened to still be there. No robbery, a rare occurrence.

"She was a friend," he confessed. Greg knew he opened his big mouth but it was too late now, he unconsciously blurted it out.

"Oh Greg, I'm sorry," Nick sympathized with his friend. "Will you be able to handle this?"

"Yeah, I want to do this," he said, inwardly kicking himself for revealing the fact that he knew her. Technically, if he was emotionally attached to anyone in a case he could jeopardize it. If Grissom knew, then he'd be off of the case for sure. He eyed his partner nervously.

"Hey, promise you won't say anything to Grissom? About me knowing her?" Greg asked, hoping he would agree to it. He examined his facial features for any kind of doubt. Nick was hesitant, but he gave him a slight smile.

"Sure buddy," he reassured. Indeed, he thought that Greg shouldn't be on this case if he was remotely close to this woman, but he saw the determination etched in his face and knew this was important to him.

"You wanna check the perimeter while I work on the body?" Nick asked. Greg flinched at the word "body" being referenced to her but that was what they termed it in every case.

Greg reached in one of the pockets in his vest and pulled out his little flashlight, keeping a tight grip on his silver kit in the other hand.

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea," Greg agreed. As much as he wanted to stay and make sure to get every single trace of evidence that might be on her, he knew he couldn't bear looking into her lifeless face.

He started to slowly walk down the damp alleyway, shining the flashlight back and forth for anything he could find. He was careful to get any kind of evidence he could find, with a side glance here and there towards Nick's direction. He had to keep his mind off of this and not be emotionally involved, be he couldn't keep help it.

When they both called it for now, they headed back to the Denali to pack up the evidence to take back to the lab. Nick offered to make one more round and ask Brass for any more eyewitness accounts (even though he said there wasn't much to go on since no one saw a thing). Greg hopped into the driver's side of his car after packing up the last of the evidence. He shut the door and sat in the dark of the vehicle, thinking. He didn't really know what to feel. He was just getting to know the woman, even asked her out. It would've been the first real date he's had in months. What upset him even more was the fact that some sick bastard decided to kill her. Greg didn't even know her well enough to see if she had any enemies, hell it could've been one of the many men she turned down, almost being one himself. He stuck by her, letting her know that he could be trusted. She let him in. Now, he was wondering if it was worth it. Her life had been taken and somehow he felt guilty.

He was going to find out who did this and for that person to get what they deserved. His job was to find the evidence to prove the person responsible and to bring the closure to the people who knew the victim. Closure, that's what he will give to himself most of all.

Eyes On Me

Sung by: Faye Wong

Written by: Nobuo Uematsu

Song featured in: Final Fantasy VIII

Whenever sang my songs
On the stage, on my own
Whenever said my words
Wishing they would be heard
I saw you smiling at me
Was it real or just my fantasy
You'd always be there in the corner
Of this tiny little bar

My last night here for you
Same old songs, just once more
My last night here with you?
Maybe yes, maybe no
I kind of liked it your way
How you shyly placed your eyes on me

Oh, did you ever know?
That I had mine on you

Darling, so there you are
With that look on your face
As if you're never hurt
As if you're never down
Shall I be the one for you
Who pinches you softly but sure
If frown is shown then
I will know that you are no dreamer

So let me come to you
Close as I want to be
Close enough for me
To feel your heart beating fast
And stay there as I whisper

How I loved your peaceful eyes on me
did you ever know
That I had mine on you

Darling, so share with me
Your love if you have enough
Your tears if you're holding back
Or pain if that's what it is
How can I let you know,

I'm more than the dress and the voice
Just reach me out then
You will know that you're not dreaming